THE NEW YORKER dirty . Yet it was as a result of his wa} with words that he did, at last, begin to play poker with us He came in wet, one evening after supper, spoke obscenely of the rain, and lay down. There was a short si- lence, broken by mur- mured bets. Then J ul- ius Rutherford, in a loud and somewhat as- tonished voice, asked the barracks at large for a match, describing it as Glenn had described the rain . Glenn looked at him-we all did. As a rule, he was rather afraid of Glenn, and "Doggone!" was hIs usual expletive. (Julie D., as he liked to be called because he was called that at home, was afraid of a lot of things then. He was only nineteen. He couldn't believe that powdered eggs were healthful, and he considered the Army a contraptIon set up to pIa} some joke on him.) He kept his eyes on his cards, and a slow, deep- purple blush moved up hIs cheeks, and the moment passed, but it was the open- ing of a smal1 rebellIon. In the next few days, Julie D. grew braver, and aL,out the seventh time he bellowed one of Glenn's phrases, Glenn laughed aloud I think he was flattered. At any rate, he actually moderated his speech for a while, and Julie went back, though not exclusively, to "Doggone!" I suppose it was about then that Glenn first did seem wistful to me. The little exchange had made us al1 notice him more-notice him personally, that is, and not merely his perpetual presence. He looked transparently eager to join the game, and would sit on his bunk all but quivering. Julie told me once that he felt sorry for him. I said so did I. We asked him to play, but each time he shook his head. Finally, he came across the aisle and, in the tone of a man giving in to endless beseechIng, asked for a hand. I doubt whether he knew much more poker than he had watched us pia}, though that was a good deal, and he went at it at first with threats and boasts, later more quietly and wisely. After a while, he even began going with us to a puh that was on limits, where he was alway" impatient for his turn to buy a round, fidgeting silently until the time came, then turnIng affable, then re- treating into uneasy watchfulness once more O NE night, both Glenn and I were on guard dutv, and we set off to- gether down a country road to our posts. There was a drIzzle, and because of the blackout the darkness seemed absolute. I remember the wind making a forlorn croonIng in some telegraph wires above us, and the brief, distant wail of sirens. The long line of a searchlight went up, miles away, probed uselessly at the low clouds, and vanIshed. Scraps of music drifted across the In visible fields from a clammy, dIsreputable dance hall, and as we came to a crossroads, there was a sound of tires behind us, someone on a bicycle rode past, and we heard a slith- ering noise, a bump, and a short scream. We both had flashlights. We turned them on and saw a girl sitting weeping at the edge of the road. We helped her up. She was no more than fifteen or sixteen, and I decided after a moment that she was a little drunk. She was a slight, pretty gir] with a wide mouth. A few strands of light hair had escaped from under the blue scarf she wore on her head. I thought I had seen her be- fore-that she was one of the young- sters who, early each evening, rode or walked their bicycles on the roads be- tween the airfield and the barracks area. She stood sobbing, looking down at the reflection of our lights in the roadside puddles. One of her knees was skinned, and her right hand was cut. I 45 Q d D V (CFollow that car'" . . offered her a handkerchIef, but she only dahbed at herself once or twice and let it hang in her hand. Her coat and her light print dress were smeared with mud. "I've ruined me frock," she said. "I don't know what to do." "You better go home," Glenn said. "Oh, I daren't go home now I" she said in a frightened voice. "And I can't go on I've ruined me frock." She was on her way to the dance, she told us in a sudden new burst of weeping. She had promised to meet "one of your corporals." Her mother had forbidden it, and would punish her. Glenn gave her two sticks of gum. She thanked him without looking at him. "You better go home anyhow," he said quietly . "You shouldn't be out on the road like this. Y ou ought to get some Mercurochrome on those cuts." She didn't answer. Glenn went on talkIng to her, and she went on sobbing. I don't recall exactly what he said-the gist was simple, he was telling her not to cry, and to go home-but I was astonished to hear the gentleness in his tone He kept bending over and trying to look into her face, speaking in an earnest, awkward way, as if he were comforting and caressing her, though he did not touch her. "You do like we tell you, now-you go on home," he said once more, and at last she nodded, and took her bike from where I had set it against a tree, and wheeled It off obediently into the darkness. Glenn and I walked on. \\T e had a